


The Demon and the Angel

by Fault



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fights, Fruit, Gun Violence, Love Confessions, Other, Phone Sex, Sappy, Scrumping, Sexy fruit eating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fault/pseuds/Fault
Summary: Alternate universe John Wick and the Adjudicator.The adjudicator is a very unusual succubus,  John Wick is a very unusual angel. The adjudicator is living a quiet pastoral life until John messes everything up by being himself. They irritate one another and charm one another.  And finally understand one another.Very uncomfortable situation caused by a guy who doesn't like consent at the start. Please avoid if this is going to upset you.
Relationships: John Wick/Adjudicator, The Adjudicator & John Wick
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Meet your doom

I live on my own. There is more than one reason for this. But mostly, I find it much more peaceful.

Today is a foraging day. I straighten up from picking raspberries, to stretch out my back. I've been tired recently. It makes me feel old. I don't like feeling old. I don't look old.

The weather has been grey today, a little slice of winter. Damp and chill and darkness. Cold and lonely weather. Hungry weather. I watch the sky a moment wondering if the glowering cloud will hold on much longer.

I'm still out foraging when the sky starts to spit rain. I climb back over the hedge, my basket already half full of raspberries. 

I begin my trudge back home, hopefully getting there before the sky opens up properly again, making the mud even slipperier and stickier. A drab little person in a drab little landscape.

I say drab because I'm not a very memorable person, looks wise. I'm have no extraordinary dimension of any feature, except perhaps an expressive mouth. I'm mildly brown haired and eyed, mildly freckled, I have mildly crooked teeth. I'm average height and weight. I look and dress androgynous. It's how I'm most comfortable. 

When I get to the road, a car pulls over. It's quite muddy. So muddy that the license plate is obscured.

"Want a ride?" Asks the driver. He’s someone I’ve never met before.

"Yes, thanks." I say, smiling. 

I walk around and get in. He leans over and clips my seat belt in. My eyes narrow, considering. 

"Gotta be safe." He says. 

I give directions, and he drives off.

"Got a boyfriend waiting for you at home?" He asks.

"No. No boyfriend, I live alone."

I feel nervous. Hopeful. Worried. His conversation continues the same vein until we pull up in front of my house. My cottage is up a little path. He offers to carry my basket. I accept.

He comes in after me, and I take the basket back off him. As I turn away, he shuts the door. The lock clicks shut. I feel a thrill. 

My cottage is old. I've lived here on and off for a long time. It's always so lovely to come back to, after a trip away. To make it cosy again. It's always strangest when a stranger enters the house. it feels uncomfortable, but it is necessary. 

I put the basket down on my kitchen bench, and I put the kettle on.

He comes in after me. The house begins to take on a tenseness, one that grows until it's as though a storm is about to break. Oh well, I suppose it was unavoidable. 

"Want a cup of tea?" I ask, disappointed.

"Come on, I gave you a ride. Why not give me one?"

"And if I say no?" I ask. May as well go through the motions.

"But you're not going to. You knew what you were up for." He says. "Come on. You'll like it."

I say nothing. 

"Why don't we do it properly. Where's your bed."

The tension in the room increases. Like a shadow in front the sun. There's a howl of wind and the rain batters the window casement , wrenching one free to bang wildly.

"Take off your pants." He grabs my wrists. In that moment, the room crystalises. 

It's as if the room is filled with ice, no, not ice, liquid nitrogen: an implacable and ineffable force, as overwhelming as if you were staring into the sun. I stare into his eyes, waiting to see the moment when his nerve cracks. Their nerve always breaks so quickly... There it goes. His whole posture changes, suddenly unsure.

“Let me guess, you’re rethinking your life choices.” I say. 

"You're a witch." He says. 

I sigh, and say.  
"If you ever treat a woman like this again, you will suffer for every time you've violated consent, cheated on, and degraded women. You will have the pain you've caused revisit you threefold. Keep in mind, I don't believe you've ever accurately imagined the depth and breadth of the harm you've caused. Make amends for what you've done, or make peace with your fate."

The kettle starts to whistle, urgent, piercing. I stare into his eyes coldly for a long moment before I turn away from him to take it off the hob. 

As though a spell is broken, he flees. I hear him scrabble at the door, then it bangs open. 

The oppressive aura fades away as his car starts.

"Did you get his license number?" I ask the dark doorway. 

Sure enough, when I look over, there appears to be a lanky, middle aged man standing sheepishly on my doorstep, dressed impeccably in a suit, and looking off the way the guy's car went. 

"Yes, and I called it in to the police anonymously." He says, looking like a puppy who's just been caught chewing a shoe.

"Thank you John. You're becoming very modern." I say, half grateful, half rueful.

Why half rueful? Because that wasn’t what it looked like. I’m a succubus, and that awful man was the best prospect I’ve had for a proper meal in months. Yes, I steal souls for sustenance. Preferably from awful human beings who weren’t going to make it into Heaven anyway. Look, I don't criticise how you make a living.

John doesn't appear to know what to do with my thanks.

"Well don't stand there getting wet. Come in." I say. 

Even if he were not impervious to my powers, there'd be no way I could get him to obey me. My powers are quite weak, compared to other succubi. As I said, I'm quite androgynous, and I might have had better luck as an incubus, but that is not my function. 

John does come in, and shuts the door behind himself. Then he stands on the doormat and looks uncomfortable, while his long hair slowly drips.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" I say, already pouring him one.

"You know I have no need of corporeal matter, Demon." He replies.

"I know, but it's cold out. I made yours with raspberry leaf, and I have honey. Come, you're my guest. At least have a seat." 

He does so, carefully. Looking somewhat troubled. I do believe my angel is lonely. He really is the strangest and most precious creature I’ve ever met. 

Due to my unusual nature, I have seduced many humans that other succubi have given up on seducing. Most succubi don’t need to say much to seduce their targets. It’s all seductive actions and visceral primal attraction. Come hither eyes and provocative dancing. For me? Not so effective. So I learned how to talk. How to listen. How to be seductive with what I have. 

Apparently this means the angel sitting across from me believes that every kind word from my mouth must be a seduction in some way. If anything, it's the opposite.

"Here." I say, as I put the cup of tea in front of him, herbs floating in their little metal cage. I push a tea bag rest over to his side of the table too.

Apparently he’s incapable of believing my kindness is merely that. But he appears to have come to the conclusion that a cup of tea is not a moral peril, and takes a sip. Funnily enough, I remember when it was considered to be a moral peril. 

I hide my smile behind my own cup of tea. It’s good, a little bitter, a little sweet. Very hot. Seems appropriate, in my current company. This quiet companionship continues for some time.

You might be wondering why a succubus is giving tea to an angel. It's A long story. 

It's to do with empathy. As I said, I always had to get to know my victims in order to seduce them. Only thing is, when you do that, you tend to develop empathy. Then you develop a conscience. Makes it difficult to casually doom people to hell for your own selfish ends. Since I developed a conscience, The only people I have doomed, are terrible humans like today’s example.

Fortunately, I am always in control in these situations. It is not traumatic for me. It is generally a vengeful, and violent and ecstatic act for me. I am still a demon, after all. Think of it as BDSM on crack, if you must think of it at all. I prefer not to, these days.

The flipside to being so weak, is that I also don’t need to eat very often. So I can live a quiet life quite happily, most of the time. I don't have to go hunt for scumbags at all, generally they find me. My problem is that I have attracted John’s attention. You might be wondering why my ‘guardian angel’ here looks more like a bodyguard than a cherub. He's not a guardian angel. And certainly not mine. They typically manifest as tiny intense lights that sing with pure energy. Those ones repel my kind like a magnet facing a magnet, their power turns their chosen ones away from my path before they even cross it, usually. 

I didn’t attract a sweet little cherub either, to blow divine winds across the weft of the world. Nor a messenger with their thousand wings, nor a herald with a thousand eyes, and a voice to split the sky. 

I am haunted by a veteran. A bona fide old fashioned soldier of God, manifesting in a modern guise. One of The Swords of the Almighty, a proper slayer of demons. So, he takes the form of a human, a tall man with no extra flesh, long limbs, long face, and a neat beard. A suit and tie. A sidearm and a bullet proof vest. Hair like the sweep of a raven’s wing, usually. And the most intense brown eyes. 

As he sits there sipping tea, he may look innocent, harmless. But make no mistake. This is a powerful being. Not designed to fight me. Designed to fight corruption and violence. Designed as a shield against fury and anger and destruction. I am not a creature of anger or destruction. I’m a creature of lust and carnal knowledge, which is something he knows nothing about. At all. Which perhaps is the real reason he has no idea whether I’m trying to seduce him or not.

“You’re not going to succeed in stealing another soul with your wiles.” He says, as though he’s continuing a conversation. 

I almost laugh in surprise. “I'm well aware.” I say, sardonically.

He's powerful, but I’m almost as impervious to him as he is to me. Because we both work within our rules. And there’s no rule like divine rule. I say I’m almost impervious to his powers. He can’t really harm me if I don’t sin, or use any violence. But he can easily chase away my food with his unsettling divine aura. I have become increasingly hungry since he’s been hanging around. 

“Then you should go back to hell. Why do you persist on the mortal plane?”

He seems deeply confused by my behavior as usual, and stares into his mug, looking uncomfortable and confused. The mug is hand made. My own work. I fired it in a local kiln. It has streaks of a dark mottled brown on a creamy white base. I'm happy with how it came out, it fits his colouring beautifully.

I just look at him for a while, before answering. He’s like a tiger. Deadly and powerful and so beautiful it hurts. I cannot bring myself to blame the tiger that kills my livestock. It’s just acting in its nature. And like a tiger, you can talk all you like, it won’t stop it from eating you.

I try anyway.

“I like it here. The sunshine is beautiful, and the rain is soothing.”

“You’re a demon. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nothing about my existence makes sense. I have learned to live with it, anyway.” I say, and sip my tea.

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Since we’re talking. I’d like to know, am I some sort of test of faith that you’ve been tasked with?” I ask.

“No, you’re a demon. It’s my purpose to defeat you in honourable battle.” He says.

“So you’re hoping I’ll pick up my carving knife and give you an excuse to send me screaming back to hell with a silver bullet, or something?”  
“No, I know you’re not violent.” He replies.

“You’re hoping I’ll just give up and die quietly then?”

“You’re a demon. Demon’s don’t die.”

“Well it feels like I am.” I say, because it's true. I don't want to go.

This appears to trouble him even more.

I smile. You may think I’m twisted for loving the creature that is slowly but surely starving me to death. But he reminds me of some of my favourite humans. Ones I lost long ago. 

The chair I sat him in is draped with a sweater I knit for him, warm and soft and the sweetest, gentlest, grey-blue wool i could find. I made him chunky socks from the same wool too. The inside of the mug is glazed in the same colour. I don’t know why, but it just seems like the right colour for him.

You may notice that I have many skills. I've lived a long life with a mix of self sufficiency and fascination with humanity. Consequently, I can knit and smith, I can scrimshaw and cook. I can sew and sing and dance, I can do electrical work and plumbing. I can paint and grow vegetables, type 80 words a minute, and build a fence. A jack of all trades, if you will. A messy cobbled together creature of no particular profession or gender or age. 

He's my opposite. A singular being created for a singular purpose, one he has honed and perfected. Killing demons. As an angel, he is perfect, as a veteran, he is grizzled and scarred. It shouldn’t be possible, but both are true. His hair is dry now, a dark chocolate brown, deeper than his eyes. 

He doesn’t acknowledge my gifts. It’s not in his nature to do so.

“If you starve here, you face oblivion as surely as if I kill you.” He says, as though I might have forgotten. 

“If I go back to Hell, the best I can hope for is to torture doomed souls.” I say.

“Of course.”

“What about me makes you think I want to do that?” I ask seriously.

“You’re a demon.” He replies as though that's the obvious answer.

I sigh in frustration and push a small bowl of raspberries in front of him. 

“I foraged these today. Would you like one?”

“I will not fall for your seductions, demon.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for some time. Why do you keep calling my attempts at good hospitality seduction?” 

“What else can they be? I know you use many measures to entrap souls, not just your body.”

“Not only do you not have a soul I can steal, My powers can’t work on you, so how exactly am I seducing you?” I say in frustration. 

“You can corrupt my thoughts.” He says.

“Can I?” I say. This is news to me.

“No. I won’t let you. I am on vigilant guard against the corruptions of the mortal world.”

“You really are my guardian angel then?” I say, amused.

“What?!” He pushes himself away from the table so hard that he almost tips the chair over.

“No, I am not your guardian angel!” he says with force.

“Do you want to be?” I ask, fascinated by this massive reaction. The most emotion I’ve ever seen out of him.

“Enough!” He says, and discorporates. Suddenly the kitchen feels very empty.

Well. That was interesting. 

I eat a raspberry, and contemplate. I wonder how long before he deigns to manifest in my presence again.


	2. Onwards,  downwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How exactly did these two meet.

The day I meet John, I'm volunteering in the local library. Like many small libraries, they are both understaffed, and underpaid. Fortunately Dewey decimal is still the same after all these years, so sometimes I help reshelve, and sometimes I make snacks for the book club, and extra for the staff. 

Today is not the best day I've had recently. I appear to have seduced one of the local fathers. Today when he's picking out books, he stands a little too close. Oh dear. He's always been nice to me, so it's disappointing that he turns out not to be immune to my succubus talents.

"Hi." He says.

"Hello." I say uncertainly.

"You're a very mysterious woman."

I'm not a woman. For that matter I'm not a man. But that's not the point of his clumsy flirting anyway.

"Always." I say. "Can I help you find a book?"

"Actually.. I was wondering.."

My face falls. No... don't say it. Don't say something that can't be unsaid.

It's then that I feel a divine presence. It's been a while since I've encountered an angel. Part of the reason I volunteer at this library is because the one in the next town over has more than one guardian angel that regularly visits. Very uncomfortable for me.

"... Nevermind." The guy says. Obviously his guardian angel is finally properly on the job. Nothing more to worry about out of him.

"Sure thing. See you next time." I wave him away, smiling. He was one of the last patrons before we close. My entire section of the library is empty now. I'm so glad that this guy has a guardian angel. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. Though this angel was a little slow off the mark.

A man in a black suit and tie manifests at the other end of the shelves. The suggestion of white dove wings lingers at his back, and his divine presence radiates like the heat of a fire. His beard is neat, and his hair is unruly. It's very rare for a guardian angel to manifest to me at all. Let alone in a form like this. This angel has a scar on his lip, and a gun at his hip. What on Earth is this creature. He strides towards me with purpose.

"Thank you. Are you his guardian angel?" I ask as politely as I can, knowing what's coming. Guardians usually chitter at me urgently to leave their chosen souls alone in a divine voice that eats my mind away, and then run off to continue protecting them. Since I always promise leave them alone, I've rarely talked to the same guardian angel twice. This one is nothing like any other.

"I am your downfall." He draws his gun and trains it directly at my heart.

I cover it instinctively, stumbling backwards, though my hands would be no barrier to the etheric bullet he would shoot. though to be honest, a real bullet would also kick me off this plane of existence, quite thoroughly.

"You will not steal any further souls. Your time on Earth will end. One way or another, you will return to hell." He says, his voice gravelly, flat and serious. The gun does not waver.

"I don't understand. I wasn't trying to seduce him."  
I was wrong. This is not a guardian angel. This is a demon slayer. What the hell (pardon the expression) is he doing here in rural England?

I keep an iron fist on my emotions, my face blank. Any act of aggression on my part would be enough of a transgression for this angel to remove me from existence instantly.

"If you cross any line, I will end your trespass upon this Earth." He says cool and calm.

"I understand."

"Stay away from humans."

"I wasn't trying to steal his soul. It wasn't anyone's fault, he just spent a little too long near me."

"A seduction is a seduction. "

"Woah... You're not going to do anything to him are you? He has kids."

"Not this time. But better dead than corrupt."

"I'll stay away. I promise."

With that he discorporates.

I shake like a leaf. What the fuck was that? I now have a divine assassin waiting for me to screw up so he can take me out? How did this happen?  
Did I misjudge my last scumbag and attract divine notice? If so, why has it taken so long for me to attract an angel like this? 

I have no answers. Only questions. And fear.


	3. I die how I want to, angel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm scared. I'm scared of John. I'm scared for other people.
> 
> How am I going to survive this?

That evening I walk home without stopping to smell hedge rows. I click on all the lights.

I'm scared. I'm scared of the demon slayer angel. I'm scared for other people. I'm scared for my life, such as it is.

I don't sleep at all that night. Wondering whether my personal nightmare is about to manifest himself and shoot me dead, regardless of whether I've done anything to warrant it. I must be getting old. I can actually feel the tiredness. Or maybe that's from my worry.

I call in sick for work. 

I spend the day cleaning and tidying the house. Mainly because I dont know what to do. Partly because I hope a solution will present itself to me. Will I have to quit my job? I have bills. I can do without internet, and electricity, fascinating though they are. But I am not doing without running water.

I need to work... I also love my colleagues, neither of whom are attracted to me.

But, I don't want to endanger them.

I also don't want to endanger myself. I love my life. I love rain dripping off trees after the sky has cleared again. I love bird song. I love the taste and crunch of toasted hazelnut on my oatmeal. I love people. 

Not all people. I have to avoid most people for one. But there are some that have made me cry rivers when they died. The life of every single one like a gorgeous tapestry. Amd I am lucky to have more than one friend right now.

As i wipe down the kitchen cupboards, I finally notice it... a divine undercurrent. Actually I've felt this a lot recently. I just didn't know what it was.

The demon slayer is here.

Just on the other side of reality. Looking through the veil at me. I thought it was a cherub visiting a nearby town doing their subtle works to add divinity like a gentle sun shower, this happens semi regularly around here. 

It's not that. Now that I really focus on it, this is like a fine rain of ice. Pure and cold and sharp. 

No cherub. No guardian angel. No. This is "my downfall" that lurks nearby. That strange terrifying angel.

I've never seen a soldier of God so close before. I haven't seen one at all in decades.

None of them have looked like that. Especially not the scars. Not the grey hair either. Each has been too perfect. Like they were formed whole a moment ago.

What is this creature? Is he a rogue angel? No. I know what a rogue angel looks like, and they're nothing like that.

But, this is no ordinary angel. Ordinary doesn't apply to angels, but still. Never have I met such as this.

What's with the threats? And manifesting like that at all.

And now... the hanging around. 

Is he filling in for a guardian angel somehow, and has no idea how to keep his charge safe, so is just threatening anything that seems perilous, including me?

If so, why the surveillance? My neighbors are highly unlikely to have attracted a guardian angel. Then again, maybe a weird choice of angel for a weird choice of person?

Nothing against my neighbors, they're just... Ordinary. An old couple. Fortunately the man's eyesight is going, and so he hasn't been staring after me. And he's slightly deaf, so my voice isn't going to do much either. And the woman is straight enough that I haven't managed to fluster her either.

My demonic senses tingle. My 'downfall' is still watching. Somewhere. He's good at hiding his divine nature. A demon slayer should have been as obvious as a car horn from this distance.

I find myself peeking around corners before I enter rooms. Ok. that's it. I can't deal with this suspense any more.

"Come out. I know you're there." I say, looking around the empty room.

Nothing apparently happens. 

"I just want to talk." I say, starting to walk around.

"Truce? I just want to find out if there's anyone in particular I should avoid, so you can stop worrying about me. Is it just the guy at the library?" I grab my wooden spoon, like it might protect me somehow. "I'm on your side here. I don't want to seduce any innocent people."

More silence.

"Hello? Angel man?"

"Come out, come out wherever you are." Now I'm tiptoeing in my own house. I feel ridiculous. 

I grab a saucepan. 

I start yelling and banging the spoon on the pot. 

"Come out, scary guardian angel. I know you're stalking me. I refuse to be hunted in my own home. I can work with you here! Scary Angel !? I won't hurt anyone you tell me not to, I promise!"

He manifests before me suddenly.  
"Work with me? Either you're lying, are up to some flimsy ruse, or you're deluded enough to think I'm that corrupt."

After I finish being startled, I hold up my hands in surrender. Then I put the wooden spoon and pot down on the kitchen bench.  
"Hi... no, you see, it's not a ruse. I'm not a very hungry succubus. And I'm not exactly roving the world testing my luck with every man I set eyes on. I'm not worth your time and effort, honestly. Tell me who to avoid, and I'll avoid them. I'm not here to cause you or your humans any trouble."

"A demon, who doesn't cause trouble." He says in disbelief.

"Yes. I'm very bad at being a demon." I say dryly. 

He has nothing to say to that. He just stares with those unsettling eyes. I stare back. 

"Look... do you want a cup of tea?"

He blinks in consternation. 

"Either way, do you mind if I have one? I've had a hard day, and I find tea soothing." I say, and put the kettle on.

He just stands there. I don't know what he was expecting me say, but it wasn't that.

"No tricks. What am i going to do, throw holy water on you? You're an angel, right?" I say, as I spoon leaves into my teapot.

"What else could I be?" He asks, somewhat offended.

"No idea. And you're not talkative enough for me to find out." I sigh in irritation, this whole conversation is stressful, and he's not making any part of it easy.

"My message to you is the same as yesterday. I will destroy you the moment you step out of line. Leave before you do, and you may return to hell, where you belong."

"But I will never willingly hurt anyone, and I refuse to return to that wretched place." I say with conviction.

"You will crack, one way or another. I have never failed."

"You kill sucubbi for a living?"

He hesitates to give out further information. I pour the water into the pot.

"Seriously, Is this the only reason you're here, to kill me?"

"Yes. Either leave this plane willingly or I will destroy you." 

"Well, you're the most polite hit man I've ever heard of." 

"I'm an angel."

"You're an assassin." I state. "And I'm the one your bullet is going to rip apart, so I should know."

"You're a demon. You don't belong here."

"Neither do you, angel. But you're still here so often that you manifested yourself like you're the royal bodyguard I saw on TV last week." I say as I pour two cups of tea.

"You're likening my execution of God's will to your soul stealing."

I carefully pour and set his cup of tea on the table in front if him. Then I sit and sip my own, before I answer, starkly and meaningfully. "I didn't ask to be created this way any more than you did. We both are stuck doing what we're made to be, and the biggest difference I see is that you don't question what the purpose of destroying souls is when you pull that trigger. " I watch his eyes as he digests those words.

"I dont destroy souls. You're not a soul. Demons aren't souls."

"All I am is a soul. All you are is a soul. We aren't humans. We don't get bodies and lives and children. We just exist." I say, coldly, controlling my anger, leaving only the stark despairing reality of it to colour my words.

"Shoot me now if you want me to leave. This is my home. I'm not going to do anything that lets you destroy me, and I'm not going to leave it myself." 

"You will leave.." He says confidently.

"What's your name?" I ask sharply.

He narrows his eyes at me.

"I'm not a witch. I can't enchant you with your true name. I just refuse to call you 'angel'." I say, and take another sip. He makes no response. 

"I'm going to call you John. Listen to me, John. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but you are not going to win this. I live on my terms, and I leave on my terms. You can be my personal angel of death all you want, but you Will Not Break Me ."

"You are right about one thing, demon. I am your personal angel of death."

He fades slowly from existence like the Cheshire cat, leaving at last nothing but his eyes like two voids tearing an opening into the infinite.

Then nothing... No, not nothing. The soft, icy certainty of his presence, just beyond the scope of mortal kenning. Like an hour glass of icy dust, counting out my days.

Well. I was curious what it felt like to be mortal. Anxiety inducing. Not as awful as I feared, though.


	4. Memento mori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May as well be proactive. Time to face death.

I've known people with a terminal disease before. So I know the way I want to approach this. It's making sure my loved ones know I love them, and making sure no one has to clean up my life for me after I'm gone.

How long can I go without feeding on a soul? It's already been almost a year. The less I use my demonic powers, the longer I can last.

Maybe another year, at most a year and a half?

Any longer is pushing it. 

So what do I do with my last year on Earth? 

I start making plans. I put them up on the kitchen wall.

By the time I go to bed, I can imagine it well. The places to say goodbye to. The things to eat. The people to share it all with.

I try to tell myself that it's not goodbye forever. That one day I'll see the sun rise and set again. But I know, the world will look so very different by the time I cam return. And all the people I love will be gone. I will not have my little house. I will not have my little path. I will not have my little library. 

Will I still love the world I come back to? There's no way to know. But without hope, what is left to me?

So I hope. And I plan.

I map the plan with flowers and leaves, little pieces of nature to mark the passing of the seasons, for the last time.

By the time I finish, I no longer fear John. I hate him a little still. But I don't fear him. I don't want to go, but everything I want to do will not be something that destroys me. He shall be nothing more than a memento mori. An inspiration to do the best I can each day. A warning against doing anything I would regret.

When I get into bed, it's with satisfaction. The gentle snowfall feeling of him being nearby no longer panics me. So I curl up, and look forward to going back to work tomorrow.


	5. Please seduce me

The winter is returning again. And it finds me in bed. Wrapped in a blanket, and reading a book. 

It has been a long year, and a short one.

I have just enough clothing to be wearing something clean.

I have just enough art to make me smile.

I have just enough of most things, not for comfort, but for bare necessity.

So much of my life has been stripped away. What remains is what I could not bear to part with.

And that's all remains of me too, what I can't bear to part with. My strength is gone. My power is gone. I'm injured. My hair is grey now. And everything aches.

I hear a knock at the door. I put down my book, and cover my hair. I'm sure it's my boss. She's been very thoughtful the last few weeks.

"Coming!" I yell. I don't want to hurry, afraid I'll trip and fall. But I also don't want to worry her.

Then I hear John moving downstairs. Oh no. How do I explain him. he's like a raven in a library. There's really no sufficient explanation and its eerie as fuck. The door opens.

"Oh hi." I hear Sudha say.

"Hi, you must be Sudha." I hear John's voice. "I'm John. Come in. Sarah will be down any moment."

... At least he doesn't sound eerie. I finally get down the stairs, and Sudha is in my living room, holding a pot of daal, by the smell, and smiling at John. He, on his part, is wearing his handmade blue sweater and my apron, no gun or bullet proof vest in sight. His hair is neat. And he's looking.. genial.

I look at him, silently asking what he's doing. He takes the pot and leaves to the kitchen, a ... bounce... in his step.

"Sarah. You don't look well. You poor thing."

Sudha is such a mother sometimes. Not surprising, since she has two kids in the local school. 

"How do you know such an attractive man?" She whispers to me once John's out of ear shot.

"Is it that strange?" I ask back quietly.

"Frankly, yes. You don't have any male friends I know of."

"Old acquaintance. He's in the area on business. "

I remember about her son's recital and we chat away for a while about pleasant things. Then John pops his head back around the kitchen door. 

"Lunch is almost ready." He says.

"Good man. Thank you for looking after our Sarah."

Keeping the fascade of strength and health up is starting to wear on me. I just can't draw enough power. John holds my elbow. 

"Thanks." He says. "Sorry to be rude, but I'm in the middle of cooking , and I don't know where Sarah keeps things in the kitchen. "

"Oh. I understand. No worries. I was just checking how Sarah was doing, it's not like her to be sick."

"Thank you for the daal, I'll give you a call." I say.

John shuts the door on Sudha as she's still saying goodbye. Then scoops me up and carries me back to bed. I let him. I have no energy left to fight about it even if I wanted to.

"Thank you for allaying Sudhas fears." I say, as he sets me down. 

"Why are you spending energy on concealing all this from her? She's going to notice that you're gone. "

"Because if I tell her I'm dying, she's just going to mourn." 

"You'll die faster every time a friend come around to wish you well."

"Seems an excellent use of my power so far as I care."

"But you have so little left."

"I know. "

"Is the pain bad?"

"Yes. I'm suffering quite grandly, thank you John."

"Then why are you still here?" He says, agitated.

"Because these are my final days. And I'm not ready to say goodbye to it all quite yet. "

"I wish I'd never met you. " He says.

"Thanks. Isn't that what I should be saying?" I say dryly, trying to get comfy 

"I wish I'd never met you because it's my fault you're suffering, and I can't stand to watch it." He says quietly.

"You don't have to stay here and watch, I'm not going to be able to steal a soul in this state, even if you left this minute, and a man dropped into my lap. I'm terminal. "

"No..."

"You're welcome to leave. Your job here is done."

"That cant be true. How can you just lie there and accept it?"

"I tried to think of a way out of this the day I met you. There wasn't a single solution that I could accept. This was the best I could hope for from the minute we met. The only way out would be to find someone who could kill you. Which I didn't want to do. I can't really blame an angel for killing a demon after all. Even when that demon is me. So I made peace with my fate."

"This isn't just. Be honest. You're not going to be allowed back here, back to earthly existence, once you go to hell, are you?"

"No. No I'm not. That's why I'm still here. I want to make as many memories as I can before I go."

"No. There must be something I can do."

"What, like shoot me?"

"To help you."

"You have. The food is keeping my strength up surprisingly well. "

"More than that."

"Not without breaking divine law."

"Fuck divine law."

I laugh, and caress his cheek fondly. "I have corrupted you after all, dear John."

he goes very still a moment, then says. "You have corrupted me. You've corrupted me and I can save you. Seduce me." 

He leans in to kiss me.

"What are you doing." I hold him back.

"I finally understand what I've been feeling. You're seducing me." He says, still leaning over the bed.

"Bollocks I'm seducing you, you're an angel."

"How do I give in to lust?" He says, looking at me intently

"Bloody angel, what sort of question is that?"

"I love you, I'd do anything to save you."

"that's wonderful to hear, but Lust is a feeling of physical sexual desire. Acting on it is what gets you your soul stolen by a sucubbus. Me, for example."

"Exactly. So have sex with me, please?"

"What is wrong with you John? Oh shit." I say, as I take in John's dilated pupils. I think I might actually be seducing him.


	6. Summer seaside memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the seaside to say goodbye. John learns a little more about me, not happily. 
> 
> Another awful human in this chapter.

How did we get from mortal enemies to John declaring love? I think it was at the seaside.

Shortly after John and my talk over tea, I'm off to the seaside. He hasn't manifested himself to me again yet. 

I'm going with my old friend Melissa. I've had to make myself look older for the day. Much like with many people, I have had to drift away from her over time. She tells me of her brand new grandchildren. We have a lovely day of ice cream and walking and paddling. Looking in shop windows. It was everything I hoped.

Melissa goes to sleep fairly early, which isn't a surprise. Despite having well inhabited body, I still don't need more that four hours a night. 

so I get up to have a wander. There are parts of this town she doesn't need to see with me. They have old memories, far older than her.

i step out into the midnight air, close and still around me. The suggestion of rain still dampening the ground.

I wander around the old parts of town. Remembering how it used to be. The women I used to hang around with there.

it's while I'm lost in thought that I hear footsteps behind me.

Some things don't change. Perhaps there's a upside to John refusing to talk. Do I dare hope for something to eat?

The guy steps up closer. He grabs me, pulls me to my knees. 

John manifests like the avenging angel he is, and tears the guy away from me. He pulls his gun, presses it to my attackers chest and there's a flash of light, all in a single fluid motion. 

The man's eyes pop. John shot him with an ethereal bullet. It's as though the thought of a bullet rips through him. 

The searing heat, the pain, the useless squeezing of a heart that has been torn to pieces. It's as real as imagining can make it. Not only that, the thoughts and feelings he's having right now are torn to pieces. His violence washed away by a wave of divine energy. This is Johns real power. Demons and angels are a type of powerful complicated thought, when it comes down to it. A self contained idea of good or evil. John's power is to tear evil thoughts to shreds. 

In a human about to assault someone? That bullet shreds his entire consciousness away into nothing. As he slumps, John tosses him aside. I blink. John's lack of care for the man is nothing I've seen from him before. I have no idea what that will do to the guy, long term. But it isn't nothing. 

"Are you ok?" He asks me with genuine concern. The divine wind of his manifestation still blows through his hair, catching the moonlight. His eyes are as intense as jet.

"Just hungry." I say. I take the offered hand, and stand up.

"Is it always like that for you?" He asks. 

"Pretty much. Ever since I stopped stealing souls for fun, anyway." I say, dusting myself off.

"That's awful." He says.

"I'm a demon. What did you expect?" I look at the guy on the ground. He's still breathing, at least. He may be a scumbag, but he's a person. 

"I expected humans to treat you better." John says, disgusted. 

"Most do. But I guess you see why I avoid men wherever possible now. "

"I do." He spits on the man, as though the thought of him brings bile to John's mouth.

This is not the polite tiger I've come to know at all. What is this side to John. It's strangely human in its disgust with humanity.

"I don't understand how you create such a beautiful life for yourself when you have to go through this." He gestures at my attacker.

"Because I'm not a human. And also, because I am like a human. I can change myself for the better, so i do."

"Would you like company for the rest of your walk?" He asks.

I smile. Ever the gentleman. "Why not? Though I'm quite unlikely to come across another walking meal."

"What if they hurt you before they... You know."

"Then I get hurt. And I'd better hope they finish what they start, so I have the strength to heal, and to punish them suitably."

"How do you accept living like this?"

"Because I don't have any better choices available?" I say. For an angel who has apparently walked among humans for some time, John is oddly unfamiliar with the limits of mortal life.

He's quiet for a while. I lead us out to the old docks. They're still here. Not used for transportation so much anymore. Just a scenic feature.

I eventually find an old familiar spot where I used to haunt. I reminisce.

"The docks were busy here. I used to hang around with the prostitutes. A lot of horny sailors got off ships. I'd always take the ones I thought might hurt one of the girls."

"Jesus."

"He certainly had nothing to do with it. It was just the girls, me and a lot of Johns. If you'll pardon the expression. "

"I'm glad you retired from that."

"Yeah. It was just too depressing after a while. Those poor women." 

He doesn't reply. 

"I've thanked the docks for their memories. Want to walk me to the hotel?"

"Why is it every time you open your mouth..." He trails off. He starts again. "I want to retire from being a demon slayer."

"I want to become a guardian angel. That is not the purpose I was created for. There are great challenges I must pass before I can be remade." He says. No wonder he was so sensitive about my comments. 

"Oh. So you were hoping I'd be your last demon assignment or something? Sorry John, I'm not going to leave any faster to help you retire."

"I know. I don't want you to."

"Why do you want to retire from being a demon slayer? Aren't you the best there is?"

"I want to do something other than destroy. " he says quietly.

"I know that feeling too well. Would you like to join me next time I throw some clay?"

He just stops. Stops walking, stops breathing. The look in his eyes so complex, so wrenching. I watch for a few moments, fascinated by this vulnerability. This feeling of intimacy. My strange and beautiful angel. 

"I've crossed a line again haven't I? Sorry John. See you later. Thanks for the company. "

I turn and go back to my room. Cosy and warm still. He stays out there. In the still night air. Manifesting on the mortal plane, just because he can. Because he wants to.

I think that's when he starts to love me. And when I start to be grateful for him, an immortal witness to my life, before i go.


	7. The ferocious Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace must be committed to, in order to maintain it.
> 
> Such it is, when another supernatural being siddles up into my life. What will they do to John, to me?
> 
> What will peace cost, this time.

It's in the autumn that everything goes wrong. The year has been peaceful, joyful, fulfilling. My summer was perfect. 

The autumn beautiful and quiet. Then it becomes too quiet.

I suddenly realise I haven't felt John around all day. I expend very little of my demonic energy these days, so sometimes it's like walking around blindfolded, with cotton wool in my ears. I can only afford to do it because John is here to keep me safe from supernatural threats.

I boost up my senses, try to figure out where he is. But he's gone. Gone too far away for me to feel.

That has not happened since the first day, since before the first day even. Is this a test? Is he lurking somewhere, seeing what I'll do with my 'freedom'. Giving me enough rope, as it were.

It goes on. He isn't back the next day either. I'm starting to get worried.

Then I feel it. It isn't like his usual radiance, that steady snowy drift of power. This is like someone poked a hole in a carton of milk.

"John? Is that you?" I ask.

As though summoned by my voice, John manifests before me, or tries to. His outline is fuzzy, his proportions are off. His suit is rags thrown over a scarecrow.

"What did they do to you?"

I try to catch him before he falls, and he hisses in pain. Even my weak demonic powers are enough to burn him. Then i realise. He has no barrier. Its like he's been flayed, there's nothing keeping him together. A strong enough breath from me would tear him apart like tissue paper. I let go immediately, push a stool under him.

"Sit. I'll get you clothes."

The pale blue sweater, the socks. Gloves for me. 

For some reason I can only find evening gloves as I rush to help him. 

I put on a balaclava, and go back to him in the kitchen. I'm as covered as I'm going to get. 

"Let's get you warm. The less energy you spend on keeping your human form together, the quicker you'll heal."

He just nods.

"Sweater incoming." I say and pull it over his head. He shrugs his arms in, and then I wrap him up in my quilt.

John has been in a fight. He's been injured. An injured angel? Yes, it's possible. It wasn't an earthly weapon that did this. John has been off demon slaying, seriously powerful demon slaying, if he's this injured. 

How can I help an angel? My very touch could kill him. He's showing a lot of trust in me.

Unless... He doesn't really have a choice. 

"Have you invested yourself in my house somewhere?"

He nods.

"What sort of angel invests in the house of a demon they're stalking?"

"Old habit."

He's left a part of himself behind here. Insurance in case he is injured. 

"Is it the tea mug?"

He nods.

I go to the kitchen, and put on my oven mitt. Then i pick up the cup with it. 

I hand it to him.

"Being sentimental almost got you killed. Invest your gun next time."

Then both of our heads snap around to look at one another.

John's presence here has attracted something. Like blood to a shark, an injured angel is bait for all manner of dark creatures. It's a fellow succubus. I can feel her.

I run to where she manifests. She's built like a pin up. Practically naked and fully demonic. She looks like someone's fantasy brought to life.

She looks me up and down, rather curious about me.  
"Sister, we have the demon slayer beaten." She says eagerly.

"We can kill him, and even better we can fuck him dead." She says, eagerly.

I hold out placating hands. "Wait. Don't kill him." 

"What do you mean? You can't have him to yourself, you're lucky he's such a fat meal or I wouldn't share at all."

"I've been seducing him for a long time. I should get his soul." I say. I grip the socks in my hand and hope my bluff works somehow. 

"So you're how we snared him? He was telling the truth? Typical angel. Still, you'd never have been able to eat him alone. Give him to me, I'll leave enough for you when I'm done, I'm sure he won't be used up all at once. "

"I can't let you do that." I say. I didn't quite understand everything she said, but I know that having her fuck him is not going to happen.

"You stupid little runt. Get out of my way, or you can die too."

She wields a dagger. I can feel the dark energy dripping from it.

This is made to tear immortal flesh. What sort of immortal doesn't matter. It will work equally well on me as on John.

I prepare to defend us both.


	8. Sock you one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger come in many forms. Including knitted goods.

I take a step to the side, putting myself directly between her and John.

I allow my demonic form out fully for the first time in years. My horns grow in. My tail is whip thin, long and prehensile, stronger than it looks. It may only paralyze humans, but it has other uses. My form barely fills out towards feminine curves. I burn through my energy store as fast as I can. My senses change, my muscles tighten.

She's fast. Faster than me. I barely get out of the way of her lunge. She strikes the kitchen table instead. More fool her, my table is made of rowan. The blade sticks. I bash her hand away from the hilt with a pan.

Claws pierce my shoulder then she tosses me away into cupboard so she can reach for the dagger uninterrupted.

John finally arrives and defends himself somewhat. He tosses a cupful of water over her, and her skin burns away wherever it touches, the droplets of backsplash sting me like acid. John invested his tea cup to make Holy Water?! She screams and lunges for John. So I kick her into the table with a goat hoof, then punch her with my sock covered hands. 

I put my strength behind it, for a good one, two combo. 

I may not be big, but I learned bartitsu from Edith Garrud herself. I connect solidly. 

It's the socks that really do me proud. It hurt to do it, but I wove holy symbols into the pattern on the base of the sole. Just for the amusement of having John walk around on them.

My evening gloves protect me, but her flayed skin is no protection for her. I hear a crack. She grunts in pain, her jaw bone snapped.

But she springs up again, almost instantly, her store of energy seemingly limitless. She finally grabs up the dagger again. I spring onto her, teeth bared, tail flailing, sock hands grabbing at whatever I can hold. It's a move of desperation. She snaps a chunk from my ear, but all it does is make me bite back, hard. I get a good mouthful of her shoulder. One of her horns comes away in my hand as I wrench at it. My tail restrains her blade hand for a moment, but then she twists and cuts it off. Her feet come up and she flings me off her, I fly through the kitchen window to thump down into the yard.

The moment I hit the ground I squirm to get to my feet, desperate to get back through the window, to where John is helpless. 

Then I hear a blessed sound.

John's gun.

When I make it back through the window into the kitchen, John is standing alone, a new gun in his hand. 

"She'll tell others where we are the moment her essence reforms in Hell. We don't have much time." My voice is thick, clumsy.

"I shot her through the heart, while she was attacking me. Divine rules. She's gone." John says simply. 

"Oh. Demon slayer. Right." I croak.

"She was the last detail. There won't be any others. " he says, in a somewhat cryptic explanation of events.

"Did you leave a gun in my house?" I ask.

"Yes. I did invest in my gun. This one." He says simply, holding it up.

Strange details stand out to me as I walk through the kitchen. His messy hair, the broken cup. The demon blood still gently smoking on my kitchen table. 

My own tail slowly burning itself into ashes on the floor.

As my adrenaline ebbs, I finally let go of my extra power. It's like someone cut marionette strings. I have to catch myself. I didn't notice how badly my leg was cut by the glass. Not only that, my human form hasn't returned properly, my legs are stuck in demonic guise, and I've forgotten how slippery hooves cam be. Feet are my favorite part of human form.

On top of everything, the pain from my many wounds is suffocating my sense of self. I slump over the kitchen table and whine pathetically. John instinctively comes to me.

My yellow cat eyes snap open. "I'm covered in demon blood." I warn him, roughly. "It will burn you."

"Right. Fuck, you're bleeding a lot."

"Get the first aid kit out of that drawer." I point. He rummages. 

I wipe my hands and face on a tea towel. It comes away black. I spit more black blood. Getting tossed into the cupboard made me bite my tongue, it seems. 

John turns back to me just in time to see me cauterise my tail stump with demon fire. The stench is awful, even to me.

"Sorry." I say. "Only way I have to stop a cursed wound from bleeding."

"Here." He hands me the first aid kit, and I start to bind my leg.

"I feel so useless." He says. "Usually I'd call on divine intervention to heal you."

"Yeah, don't do that." I say.

By the time I've finished with my leg, my eye is swelling shut. I close my eyes and rest for a moment.

"What would you usually do, transform and go to hospital?"

"Usually I'd burn soul energy to heal."

"Oh." He says. "Why did you save me?"

"Because you are stupid enough to get yourself properly killed while fighting demons?" I say irritably, as I bind my bleeding ear to my head.

"But then you'd be free." He says.

"And you wouldn't. You'd be dead, proper dead?" He seems to have forgotten that. 

"Thank you. I'll never be able to repay you."

"No, you damn well won't. Add it to the curse of remembering me." I lean back, i seem to have stopped bleeding, that'll do for now. "Fuck my shoulder hurts."

"Here." He says.

He has a pile of different pain killers, and a glass of wine. I raise as eyebrow at the wine. "It's not blessed." He says sheepishly. I take the pills, and wash them down. 

""I could do with a cup of tea." I say.

"I'm sorry, your tea pot is broken. "

"Oh... Fuck. I liked that tea pot." I say. Somehow that's what males me realise that I'm dying. I am a broken tea pot. There's no way to mend me.

"I fucked up big time." He says, his voice full of regret, and pain. 

"Was it a trap?" I ask, still in tjecdark about what exactly has transpired. 

"Yes." He looks at me questioningly.

"You must have done something truly stupid and or brave to get yourself torn up like that."

"It was. Very stupid and brave."

"That's the John I know." I let go of all my tension, my focus. My attention to reality wanders. 

"Don't die. Please don't die like this." He says.

"I won't. I just need to sleep." I say.

He touches my hand gently, through the torn evening glove. I close my eyes and rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea whether this fight scene is written well. Is it a jumbled mess, or an impressionistic tale of violence? Is it visceral and graphic, or just hokey, or not impactful enough?


	9. This is how we come to my bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So.. that's how we fell in love. Back to my unexpectedly amorous angel.

after i stop John from kissing me out of nowhere, he sits back on his haunches. Eye height with me.

"Ever since I started tracking you, all you've ever done is live the peaceful, well ordered life I was craving when I asked to change, when i asked to become a guardian angel."

He looks me in the eyes.

"I've always craved you."

"That's just my powers. " I say, in disbelief.

He shakes his head.

"You've been who I wish to be so perfectly, that I didn't believe that it was real, for so long. That's why I thought you were seducing me, for all that time. Because you embody everything I desire. I assumed i had just underestimated you as a succubus, that you were being my perfect weakness in order to beat me."

He touches my face, tentatively.

"John, be careful, you don't have your divine barrier back. You're inhabiting your body too strongly."

"I went on that mission, the mission that got you injured, got us both injured, because I was trying to free you from being a demon, or at least give you a second life on the mortal plane. I was trying to get you a reprieve. "

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I failed. I failed you. I'm so sorry." He cries. Big wet salty tears. He reaches for me again. I hold his hands, and put them back in his lap.

"Oh, John." I wipe the tears away with the backs of my hands. He tries to kiss my fingers as i do. 

"I don't care if you destroy me in the act of passion. If I get you killed like this, I don't want to live. How could I live if took the life of the first person I ever loved? If the only way i could be with you would be becoming a fallen angel, destroying everything about me that could possibly fit into this beautiful life you made for yourself."

Hearing it out loud brings my heart to my throat. 

"I don't want to lose you. And I don't want to lose myself and keep existing. So consume me. Devour me. Make me a part of your beautiful life, and live. The soul of an angel should last you about a hundred years. Shouldn't it? It's the perfect solution. You get to live, and you dont have to eat the souls of horrible men who only want to violate you." 

"Are you sure you want me to eat you, if I am the sort of person who'd be ok with destroying an angel? What if this was just a long plan. What if i am just the perfect succubus designed to seduce you into dying for me?"

"How could I disrespect the beautiful life you've lived, by reducing it to a sham created for evil means. I'd prefer to die in service to that beautiful lie, than live in a world where you aren't exactly as you mean to be. That who you've made yourself into isn't real, isn't the masterpiece of your beautiful soul. I love you completely. Do what you want with me. I'm yours. Just don't die."

"John. As lovely as this is, it's not like you. I've intoxicated you."

"That's not true."

"It is true. You're in the throes of lust." Though that's not entirely true. I've had victims declare love for me before, their minds trying to justify their libido. But not like this, not with this sincerity.


	10. Kind to Hedgehogs

Now you might be wondering how I fell in love with this big soppy angel idiot. After all, we got off to a terrible start.

In many ways, it was because he was my guardian angel.

You've seen the first few times we met. But they aren't representative way we have interacted.

The third time we met, it was with a knock at the door one morning just after I woke up. I'm confused, because it's a rare day I get a knock at the door this early. I look through the spy hole, and it's him. As per usual, he is dressed in an immaculate suit. Now I'm even more confused.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, but there appears to be a distressed hedgepig in your back garden. "

"A what?" 

"A furzepig? A hedgehog. I think it's stuck in the fence."

"You're telling me this because..."

"It's in your yard. I didn't want to trespass."

"My executioner didn't want to trespass in my yard."

"I'm your jailor, not your tormentor. Would you mind if i go in your backyard?"

"Yes. Show me where it is and then rack off to wherever you usually spy on me from."

I go through my house to enter the yard, picking up tongs and oven mitts on the way. When I get there, John's already there. He points.

"Here. It seems to have been after the worms in your compost."

I lean down and spot a spiky lump. John disappears.

"Poor thing. Come on. Let's get you out of there."

It seems to just be an issue of hard ground, and too many spines. No constriction with string, just a stuck hog in a fence. I pick it up and turn it this way and that, trying to check for injuries. Other than a few stuck leaves, the hedgie looks perfectly healthy.

The day is supposed to be sunny, it's a good thing John pointed the stuck hoggie out to me before it spent a hot thirsty day with the neighbour's cat lurking nearby.

Kind to hedgehogs. Well he's got that going for him. 

"Thanks John." I call out to the thin air, knowing that he'll be listening.

That's what it's like ever after. A knock on the door and a polite request, unless it's urgent. As he says, he's my jailor, not my tormentor. And he's perfectly patient with my plan to die slowly and peacefully.


	11. Gardening in Spring

then there was the time the weather was being troublesome in Spring, and it looked like i wouldn't be able to plant my garden. So he helps me.

as I'm getting ready to start my planting, he manifests on the other side of the garden gate. "You appear to have an ambitious garden planned."

"Not that ambitious. If the weather holds, I'll keep planting until midnight to get it all in." I say, irritated at the disruption. I look at him, he's not saying something. 

"The weather isn't going to hold is it?" I say, looking at the sky.

"The straw you plan to cover the soil with is a good idea." He admits. 

"Oh bollocky fuck nugget with a piss whisky chaser." I look up at the clouds, down at the seeds in their little paper twists. What can I get done before it's too late, and the rain buckets down? I start the hustle. 

"You don't always swear that much." John says.

"I don't always have rain ruin my plan for a summer garden." I say irritably, dropping a few packets back into the basket.

"I mean, you don't swear at work." He says.

"Linda doesn't like swearing. Upsets her."

"So why swear at all, if it's so easy not to?"

"Swearing is fun. You should try it some time." I say, and start to dig in.

"I actually came to offer help." He says.

I look up at him with a disdainful sarcasm.

"How's that going for you?"

"Poorly. Can I help plant your garden?" He asks, hair falling into one eye. He brushes it back.

I stop my frantic calculations, and look at him. He's sincere.  
"All right. Grab a fork, till that bed." I nod to the next one over.

He comes through the gate, takes a few tries to get the technique right.

I start to toss the old horse manure around onto all the garden beds so it can be dug in.

"Are you really going to eat vegetables that have been grown in animal muck?" John asks.

"Everything is made of shit John. All life is built out of the waste products of other life. Everything everywhere is waiting for something else to die and get digested."

"The trick is not to eat the shit while it's still shit." I say, wryly.

"Very pragmatic of you." He says dryly.

"Thank you." I say.

We work silently for a while. I break the productive silence with a random thought.

"I've done everything in my life pragmatically, really. Including develop empathy."

"What's the strangest pragmatic decision you made?" He asks. 

"I got married once."

"Married?"

"Legally married, yes. Not religiously. To a gay man." I say, happy to remember. 

"How on earth did that happen?"

"He was trying to force himself to like women. Chose me to have sex with because I was the least feminine prostitute he could find."

"I figured out what was up pretty quickly. I may be a terrible sucubbus, but I am a succubus. The poor man was entirely homosexual, had no hope of pretending to be straight."

"So right then and there in the alleyway, I proposed. I told him I was a spinster. That I had some money, but I was an orphan. And if he were ok with it, we could pretend we were married, and I would have good manners, and he could sleep with whoever wanted him, and I would support him all the same, because any God who couldn't love a gentle soul like him didn't deserve any respect anyway."

"What did he say to that?"

"He cried. He cried and tried to hide that he was crying, because he thought it made him look weak. His heart was made too soft for this world. Too soft, and too good. He always respected me in every way."

"How did it... work?"

"He got the paperwork sorted. We slept in the same bed like brother and sister for a while, and eventually we declared that i was barren, and got separate beds. His family hated me. I didn't mind. He brought home men after the help had gone home, and I read books in the other room while they enjoyex one another. We adopted a little girl from the work house."

"When she died of measles it broke our hearts so thoroughly that we couldn't bring ourselves to adopt again."

"Even though you knew you would be giving the child a better chance to survive?"

"People who are grieving Don't make sense John. They're too busy hurting."

"Sorry, of course."

"We grew old together for a while. When he died, I pretended to be our dead daughter, became a suffragette, and moved to London."

"You were a suffragette?"

"There were a lot of demons who were on the other side. I was beaten by more than one copper with an imp on his shoulder, whispering about how I was ungodly since I wasn't obeying a man, so I deserved the beating."

"Beaten by a copper?"

"Would have lost an eye to one beating if I wasn't a demon."

"Jesus."

"But after we won the vote, I moved back here. I've lived here on and off ever since. I'm currently 'renting' this house posing as my own great granddaughter. "

"You exist as a legitimate human?"

"Can't do without it these days. Bank accounts, mailing addresses." 

"You have layers and layers of life built here."

"I do. That's why I'm telling you. Someone has to remember me when I'm gone. You're the only one I know that would believe me."

"I curse you with remembering me John. I'm a terrible succubus, but you're excellent at being an angel. So remember me forever."

"I solemnly swear to remember you so long as I exist. Until Armageddon and afterwards, until the Sun goes dark."

"That's strangely comforting. Do your best not to get your head cut off by the Devil. I don't think even you could remember me through that."

"With God as my witness." He quips.

"If you insist." I smile back.

We manage to get everything in the ground and well covered with straw mulch before the cloud bursts. I invite him inside as the first drops start to fall.  
"Would you like a cup of tea?" I ask, as I take off my boots and gardening gloves. 

"I will not fall for your seductions." He says. The first of many times.

I laugh. "If you think tea is seductive, wait until I really get going." 

I drink some camomile tea, and tell him about the seeds we've planted. How the carrots were sweet last year, and how I'd swapped for some new types of pumpkins at the market. How i hoped the colour of the marigolds I put in each bed would contrast nicely with the foliage of the vegetables it was protecting. How if everything grew, it would create this colourful messy jumble full of life and bees.

I say it all quietly, so that I don't drown out the patter of the rain falling. I collect some of the water to make tea with, and more to wash clothes in. 

He just listens, stoic. But its as though I have him under a spell, his eyes more on me than the garden I'm describing.

When he finally leaves he has the strangest look on his face. Half happy, half distrustful. As though my joy in my garden was the seduction I promised.

The garden grows beautifully. Every single vegetable and flower. John swears he hasn't done any funny business to it, but I still wonder.


	12. Licking  wounds

My fight with the sucubbus was more taxing than almost anything I've ever done. My stores of energy were low to start with. Now I just feel drained.

When I wake, my eyes ache... and so does everything else, it seems. 

John is sitting next to me. He's still wearing the sweater. He seems to have cleaned off the demon blood somehow. He hands me a cup of tea, and I sip it greedily. It's perfect, warm and soothing.

"I cleaned you up as best I could." He says. 

"Thank you." I say. 

"how do you feel?"

"Thoroughly clean. And thoroughly beaten."

"You fought for me." He says, quietly.

"Not well enough."

"You were... amazing. I didn't know you could be that... "

"Stupid?"

"Violent."

"Oh, that. Yes, I'm very much a demon still. I'm painfully aware of that. Pun intended." I say wryly.

"It reminds me that everything you are now is a conscious decision. Your kindness and generosity is a miracle." He's says, in awe.

"Was I that bad?"

"I'm not explaining myself properly. You protected me as fiercely and bravely as I've ever protected anything, you raised arms for me, when I have never seen you raise arms for anything, including your own safety. Thank you. Please allow me to tend your wounds."

"I'm about as capable as a newborn kitten right now. I don't have much choice. But yes. Please help me."

He very seriously asks. "Would you like me to obtain animal flesh to feed to you?"

"Animal... are you asking me whether I want chicken soup?"

"Yes."

"Buttered toast will do, thank you John." 

"I made vegetable soup with carrots from the garden."

"You did?"

"I can serve it with buttered toast. Are you hungry?"

"I am. I think my stomach is about the only part of me that doesn't have a bruise. "

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

"My phone. I'm not going to work like this."

"Right. "

It doesn't take him long to return with food and my phone.  
Thanks John" 

My boss is concerned. As a part timer, I won't be hard to replace, but she's worried about me. I'm never sick. It's so lovely to be cared for. 

After I get off the phone I cry . I'm not going to get to say goodbye to my work properly. I'm going to miss Linda and Sudha. I only do data entry, but it's soothing to make everything neat and correct. And they're always kind to me there.

John hands me a handkerchief, and a spoon. I dab my eyes, and sniff. He hands me the soup. I can tell he wants to comfort me, but isn't sure how.

"You surprised me yesterday. " He says, while I eat soup and toast. It's a little watery, but I can tell he has put salt and mint into it. It's a very good first try. He must have been paying attention to my cooking lessons.

"I haven't seen you look that fierce since the second day we met, when you defied me, and told me that whatever I said, you were going to die on your own terms."

"Seems so long ago now." I say.

"I apologise for the way I treated you when we first met. I was trying to scare you off, peacefully. If I'd known you, I would have known that was impossible. When you're challenged on your principles, you stand until your last breath."

He looks shy and apologetic as he says.

I didn't know who you were back then, or I wouldn't have tried."

He looks like he wants to say more. But after a moment, he just asks "Do you want anything else to eat?"

I think a moment. "A chocolate bar... I don't have any in the house. And a banana. And a tin of pineapple. "

"Will that help you heal?" He asks.

"Yes." I lie. Any food will help. But I know I'm in my final days. That fight took a lot out of me. I'm enjoying food while I still have the chance. "My purse is on the table. Those things should all be at the corner store in town."

He goes downstairs, and I hear coins clicking for a moment, then he comes back upstairs with the food and a tin opener. 

"Did I have them?" I ask, confused.

"I cheated. " He says, wrestling with the first tin opener he's ever used. "I took the stock, and put money in the till. Sleight of will."

"You didn't. " I'm surprised that he'd break rules like that.

"I didn't want to leave you alone. Turned out to be a bad idea last time. I'm trying to be more like you, and learn from my mistakes."

"Thank you." I say. Touched.

He hands me the tin of pineapple and I sip the juice with glee.  
"I remember my first pineapple. .. " I start to reminisce. 

He eats with me. So I recount my life, remembering when pineapple first came in tins, and we eat, and rest .

He stays until I'm comfy and full, and going to sleep again. Then tucks me in, and kisses my forehead. He reminds me of my husband.


	13. Rambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did this dangerous, rule enforcing, stoic angel become a rebel.

It's the first dry windy day in Autumn, and it's my day off. I decide to go rambling, I pack my picnic in my rucksack, and get going. If I'm lucky I'll see some leaves fall, and dance in the wind.

It's still early, the sun only a fingerwidth above the horizon.

I set out, with cold air in my lungs and hot tea in my thermos. For some time I'm alone on the track. It isn't popular with dog walkers, and at this time, there isn't likely to be to anyone else.

Eventually I come up upon another wandering soul.

A retiree. A lone man. 

Upon seeing me, he stops, makes to walk with me.

To strike up a conversation. Oh no. Not again.

I brace myself to be unpleasant to him in order to get some alone time, when A reprieve walks around the bend. 

It's John. He's wearing hiking boots and jeans. And a replica of that soft blue sweater, in black. He waves to me, and puts on a loud American voice.

"I got the map honey, should I turn on some music? Oh hey mister, this your land?"

The older gentleman demurs and excuses himself. John nods at me in satisfaction.

"I can see my seducers off by myself, you know. " I say once the man has left.

I know. But I don't see why you should have to." He says.

"Want to stay? My favourite brook is up ahead."

"All right." He says, and we set off. Quietly over the stones, crunching through the leaves.

After a slow half mile through dappled sunshine and cloud, whispering tree cover and open field, we come to the brook. There's a tiny stone bridge over it. It must be a thousand years old.

"I have a cheese and pickle sandwich, would you like some?"

"Yes. thank you."

I hand him a half round of sandwich. We both eat in silence a moment, the water bubbles lightly past the bridge. I get out my thermos, and pour a cup of tea. I hand the cup to John, and drink straight from the thermos. Perk of being a hell beast, I don't burn so easily.

The brook trickles, the trees rustle, the clouds come and go. I breathe.

Eventually I look at John.

"You're not at all like any other soldier of God I've seen." I say, watching John silently contemplate nature and his sandwich by turns, looking for all the world like just another human.

"I guess you're right. You were closer than I'd like to admit when you said I'm an assassin." 

"I have a special role. I seek out and destroy the more pernicious kind of demons, those that take up residence on the mortal plane. Rule breakers. Those who hide among humanity. The underbelly of the world, as it were." 

"These clever devils can hide from the soldiers of God without a second thought, the instant they manifest. I thought you were the same, when I first found you. Trying to hide from divine rule, staying on Earth and causing havoc. But you've been true to your word since I met you. You're just living a life, and growing a garden. No ulterior motive, no grand scheme of destruction." "Not like the others I've hunted. They were true horrors. But this body, this horribly beaten up old body can hide from them and hunt them. I can walk through the world like a human. In a way, I've invested this body." 

"It's not a horrible body. You're the most beautiful angel I've ever seen."

"Why would you say that?" He asks, flummoxed.

I shrug. "I'm allowed my opinions. You're as beautiful to me as my teapot is, and both of you have seen a lot of action. "

"Anyway. I have had this body a long time. A lot of what I do is done through my body, rather than an enactment of my divine will. Which is why I am almost silent, etherically speaking."

"My gun is an actual physical gun too. My divine will is concentrated and contained only within those tiny bullets. It rather does make me the perfect assassin."

"The man you saw me shoot at the seaside was far from the first human I've done that to. My life... has been violent for a long time. I've spent a long time in the company of violence. It is... it was killing me. Wandering the world like that, ready to kill or be killed. Camouflaging myself as a evil man. I have felt tainted, dirty. I... began to question whether I was still an angel. Whether I was just a conduit for violence handed down through divine rules. Rules I wasn't even sure were just anymore."

"This is why you are so strange to me. As a demon you're far more pure than I am. You're so peaceful. And honest, and kind and generous. Everything I wanted to be, to have. You've even given me time. Time to slow down, and really remember what goodness is. Comfort. Joy."

"Your honesty meant I could treat you with respect, civility, be who I want to be. I don't have many ways to express it, but I am truly grateful to you. "

"Me too." I say, and we both look a little shocked. "I mean. I guess it was my time to go. And this has got to be the most civilised way to do it. Thank you for your respect, your company. Thank you for listening... if I'm honest, I'd much rather you forget I existed, so I could just go about my life in peace. But if I have to die, this isn't so bad."

"I wish you'd stop calling what I'm doing to you dying. I'm evicting you. You'll just live in Hell afterwards ."

"Can you hear the words you're saying?" I ask.

He looks confused. Still doesn't understand me that well. After all this.

"Come on stone head. I think there are some warblers up the path. I want to hear them sing." I say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos MeetMeInTheMatinee. It means a lot.


	14. The only solution for this is orgasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone sex saves the day.

John presses his hands together. "Are you sure it's just lust, not something more, a sign?"

"Can I touch you?" I ask.

"Yes." He says, a little roughly.

I run my fingernails over his clothed nipples and they tighten. His breath catches, his eyebrow raises in surprise. I stay close a moment, blow air across his neck. He breathes out forcefully.

"It's lust." I say.

"It's getting stronger." He says.

"You're actually feeling lust. How is this happening." I say, thinking out loud. "When you went and made a deal with a demon... And they stripped your divine barrier from you... You're inhabiting your body fully. Have you tried to leave the mortal plane since the fight?."

John concentrates for a moment.

"You're right. I.. I can't leave. The ethereal planes are closed to me."

"Shit. You're not human. But you are. You do not have the immunities of an angel any more. You're vulnerable to me. And you're trapped here with me. To a certain extent."

"Is this what humans feel around you all the time? How do they function."

I shake my head. "You are having the strongest reaction I've ever created. It's like you're a teenager taking an aphrodisiac. "

I step back a take a good look at him. He's starting to sweat, and his erection is straining at his trousers. 

"You might want to unzip, it looks like you could get injured if you get any harder."

"I ache." He says. "It's such a hunger. My desire for you... I can't think straight."

"This is a real problem. Should I leave? Should you leave?" I ask.

"Can't we just have sex?" He asks

"No. John, this is like you're intoxicated. Firstly, You can't consent in this state. Secondly, I might kill you, remember?"  
I get an idea.  
"John, listen to me. Take the phone, call me from the bath room. If you can't sense me directly you should calm down."

He clutches the phone I hand him, and leaves. A moment later my bedside phone rings. I pick up.

"It didn't work, I still want you." He says immediately. 

I put on the calmest voice I can find. "Lust can be sated by release. At least temporarily. Are you going to be ok to orgasm?

"I guess? I think so? Yes." He sounds resolute on that last.

"I'll walk you through it. Take your erection out of your pants, and get in the shower"

"Ok. Do i turn the shower on?"

"No. Hold your erection like the hilt of a sword. Now Imagine it's my hand holding you. "

"Move your hand back and forth. Gently up and down the length. Build pressure and speed slowly, figure out what feels good. Faster, slowly, harder, softer. Is the tip beginning to leak fluid? 

"Yes." He says roughly.

"Use that to lubricate your hand. Feel your skin slide against skin. Make it as slippery as you can. Spread it all the way down to the base if you can."

"Then make a firm ring with finger and thumb, and pull it all the way up to the tip. Collect the extra fluid there, then pull it all the way down. Now do it again, and imagine you are entering me as you do it." I hear his pleasure through the phone. "Do it again. More."

I moan into the receiver. It's not faked, I'm running my fingers over my nipples to help provoke an authentic reaction.

He grunts, panting. 

"Yes, keep going. Feel me tighten around you."

"Ah." Is all he says in reply.

"Yes. Is it hard to control your body?" I purr.

"Yes," he gasps.

"Good. Don't stop. You're close. Yes. Come. I want it. I want it all. Keep going, do it until you can't give me another drop."

I moan again and he drops the phone, and an ecstatic noise becomes audible even through the wall. It repeats, and again. 

Wow is it hot. Then everything goes silent for a while.

"Are you ok?" I call out.

"I don't know. This is messier than I expected. I feel tired." He replies.

"Sounds like a good orgasm to me. Congratulations."  
I smile. "Are you still willing to die for me?

"Yes."

"Shit, it didn't work." I bump my head against the wall.

"But that has been true since the day I decided to enter Hell for you. I no longer want to die having sex with you... at least, not much. I get the feeling that I'm going to need to do this again though, probably soon." He explains.

"Oh, I suppose that's the best we can hope for."

"I have the urge to cuddle." He says, confused.

"Definitely a good orgasm then. Clean yourself up and get in here, we need to plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first sex scene I've ever written that's not played for laughs. Soo... if it made you laugh, it needs work?


	15. Gardening is healthy exercise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking MMitMs advice, this chapter is going to be an exploration of Sarah's sexuality. Still under construction, read at your own risk.

Now, you may be wondering why phone sex got a sucubbus like me so hot under the collar.

Well.. There's a few reasons for that. 

For one, I inhabit my body pretty strongly, so do most sucubbi, so I'm perfectly capable of feeling desire, and pleasure. Don't mistake genderless for sexless, my being androgynous has very little to do with my libido. 

When I was first vomited from Hell I sought out sex for the pleasure as well as the sustenance. The thrill of seduction was many layered and heady. Stealing souls was a game, one that got praise from my master when particularly successful. But also an activity that was enjoyable for it's own merits. 

These days... not so much. I still take what pleasure I can from it, but I'm my own master now, and the men I choose, or should I say the men who choose me, aren't good sexual partners. 

Luckily for me I have a measure of control over my libido. I turn it off most the time, but like an empty stomach, it growls sometimes when I'm hungry. 

This is the situation we come to now. John has been keeping me very hungry. John has also been in my company, increasing physically present in my company, for some time.

But also... lurking in the shadows, constantly, for some time. 

Most days, it isn't a problem.

But some days... some days John is very attractive to me. I don't want to touch him as such, I'm aware that would either be entirely useless, or perilous for him. But sometimes I want to let off some steam... and I can't say that getting watched masturbating by an angel is particularly my kink.

Eventually, I actually fall for the big scary angel, and... yeah. The idea he's watching... becomes more interesting. More embarrassing too, but more exciting. 

The first time I notice the effect he has on me is the day he helps me garden. After the first few turns of soil, he notices both how restrictive a suit is, and how dirty gardening is. He removes extraneous clothes, an unwitting little strip tease, and so help me, I watch. He takes off his jacket, then tosses it into the ether casually, then he works off the tie and tosses it away too, and finally he rolls up his sleeves, no, not rolls, folds. He carefully, methodically exposes his forearms one by one until they're fully visible, the muscles in them well defined and moving smoothly under the skin when he hefts the next forkful of dirt. 

He notices my attention, looks directly at me with those eyes, currently flashing warm colours in the sunshine. "Am I doing it right?" He asks.

"Oh yes. Perfect technique." I say, as calmly as I can, absolutely shocked at my response to him. But I manage to put my libido back to sleep for the rest of the day. 

It's not until later that night when I step into the shower that it becomes a bother. 

It starts when I first take off my shirt. Pulling the cloth across my forearms briefly brings back the memory of watching him.

When I step my chilled feet into the shower itself, it worsens.

The warm water on my skin feels far too much like touch, but I allow it to wash over me from every side, and then to massage my close cropped scalp as well. The dirt and sweat of the day wash off me, the water running soothingly down my body and away. When I start to clean myself the real touch feels tingling and intense. And when I clean the dirt from my arms, the memory intensifies. My imagination runs away with me, and I picture John standing behind me, cradling my body from behind and leaning over my shoulder to fold a suit shirt back from my forearms. Oh yes, perfect technique. 

I feel a heat that has little to do with the steamy shower I'm standing in. Automatically I reach towards my clitoris, my fingers running through the wet hair of my mound, softness against softness, anticipation building within me.

But then I feel the icy etheric dust settling around me. The trace of John somewhere nearby. I don't know if he's actually 'watching' me at the moment, and knowing him, he's probably looking away politely, since I'm in the shower. But it still doesn't feel like a private enough setting for what I want to do. Call me a prude, but getting myself off in front of my jailor isn't one of my kinks.

Not to mention, the thought of him figuring out his effect on me is far too embarrassing. 

"Damn you, John. I can't even shower in peace." I grumble to the echoing walls, as I spin the tap to turn the shower cold, and snap my body back to reality. 

It works, and it's invigorating to boot, so I dry myself, dress for bed and get back to the kitchen to finish making tomorrow's lunch.

It's not the last time John doing something results in a cold shower for me. His matter of fact mastery over his body's movement is frequently distracting. Not to mention what he's like when I finally get him to enjoy food. Perhaps I should tell you about that next.


	16. Eating peaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under construction.

The way John eats a peach should be taught in a class.

A class on what, I'm not sure. But it definitely needs close study. 

So serious, so focused. And the way he moves. Eating is a whole body activity for John. 

How did we get to me drooling over John as he enjoys the first peach he's ever tasted? It starts one Summer day.

I've been out and about with my basket again. This time visiting an acquaintance from the library. She has a large peach tree in the backyard, and she doesn't mind me taking a basketful of them home. I'll return the favor with a bottle of peach jam.

When me and my giant summer hat arrive, the tree is even more abundant than I imagined. The boughs are bent under the weight of fruit, and the scent of them wafts on the air like a heady perfume. The lady is out for the day, and I let myself in to the back yard. 

I walk around it, looking at the tree in all its glory. Then i search out ripe fruit, and begin picking. 

It's a joyful activity, and I climb up boughs, and reach through the leaves to pick ripe peaches, warm in the sunshine, streaked with red as though sunburnt. Halfway through I stop to eat one, still halfway up the tree, looking out through the branches and feeling the warm breeze. I pop the pit in my pocket. I'll plant it later in my garden.

Then I spot the most beautiful peach, way up high. I'm a good tree climber, usually. But the patchy cloud uses this moment to provide a sun shower. I flinch as a droplet falls right in my eye and I slip. It's not a big fall. I catch myself easily enough, but I am stuck in an awkward spot. Either I drop the string bag half full with peaches, and save myself, or I scrape myself on branches, and save the peaches. 

I choose option three. "John? I could use a little help here." 

A face appears at the base of the tree. Looking quizzically up at me. For a moment we stare at one another as the rain pitter patters on the leaves.

"Could you hold my peaches?" I ask. He reaches up, and I reach down, and he manages not to spill any as we pass them. Then i go back up for the elusive excellent peach. I get it easily, and return back down the tree triumphant.

I smile and hold up my prize for his inspection. 

"You risked breaking bones for that?" 

"Pish, surely you would have caught me if i was going to break a bone."

"I'm your doom, not your guardian angel."

"At this point, is there really a difference? You woke me up the other night to chase off a burglar who was probably just a dog owner looking for his dog."

John looks miffed.

"Hey, I figure you're just using me for practice. Don't worry, I won't grass you out to God." 

"This isn't a game, demon."

"No, and it isn't a joke either, but if we can't laugh at our foibles, we can only be victim to them. "

"You have finally said something useful. "

I give him a look.

The rain shower finally stops, and I finish picking and packing up peaches. John stays with me. It's nice.

I kiss the tree goodbye and thank it for its bounty.

I leave a half dozen of the best peaches sitting in the shade on the stoop, including my prize peach, along with a 'Thank you ' scratched in the dirt nearby.

The rain shower returns in earnest halfway through the walk home. I hide under a nearby tree, but it drips great drops down onto my sun hat. After perhaps ten minutes, the rain slows to a mist, and I decide to run the rest of the way.

John helps.

He carries the basket of peaches for me as I jump over and in the puddles. I reach home rather thrilled and satisfied. My cheeks pink with exertion, and my eyes twinkling. It's in this mood I say to John. 

"Let me make you dinner with these as thanks. Fair payment."

"I don't require corporeal matter. Your seduction will fail." He says in response.

"Still not trying to seduce you, John. But if you keep bringing it up every time I try to share food with you, I will try, and it will be awkward and embarrassing for the both of us."

He has nothing to say to that. 

"Come on. I promise no funny business. Just fruit. I have some cream, we could have stewed peaches."

"Ok. I'll stay for dinner." He says.

I crow... a little. The only thing better than eating fresh peaches is sharing them. I lay out cloths on the table, then rinse and dry all my peaches, setting them out to divide into different uses based on firmness, amount of blemish, and aroma. I chat to John about my plans, and recipes.

When I am all finished, there are three peaches in the 'eat now' pile. John and I choose one each. 

"Bon appetite." I say, holding mine up. I take a big bite, and groan in delight. It's about as good as it gets, sweet, soft, juicy, and just enough tartness to stop it being cloying.

John is more hesitant. He watches me take my bite intently, then resolves to do the same. First he smells it, nose pressed against it.

Then he licks the skin of the peach, his full tongue pressed up against the fuzz, eyes half closed to better focus on the texture. Thus investigated, he bites into it, slowly, lips pressed to its flesh, juice bursting forth, and dampening his mouth. He sighs in pleasure, and takes another, quicker nibble of it. It's so visceral for me, especially since I already have the same flavours and textures already in my mouth. He takes the peach away, and brings his thumb up to wipe at the juice collecting in the corner of his mouth. Then he sucks on his thumb, eyes still half lidded, and makes another pleased noise.

Frankly, it's too much. I put my peach down and begin preparing peaches for jam to distract myself. I almost lose a thumb when he begins to nibble at the pit, intent on enjoying every last scrap.

"Good peach?" I ask when he finally returns the pit to the table.

"Yes." He says honestly. "May I have another?"

"Of course." I say, trying very hard not to let my reaction to him show. This amount of raw sensual sexual provocation wasn't my intent when offering him dinner. I just like his company. 

He's just as intent on, and appreciative of, the new peach as he was of the first. I wash my hands and face in order to get a grip on myself. I must be quite hungry not to be able to shut down the response I'm having.

As quickly as I can I prepare grilled peaches and cream. 

His reaction To them is if anything more astounding than to the fresh ones. He praises my cooking.

Before he leaves, through the front door like a gentleman, instead of disappearing from my kitchen, he thanks me sincerely for the peaches. 

As ever I wonder how perceptive he is to my physical reactions, as my heartbeat skips, and I reply. "You're welcome. I'm happy to share. Let me know if you want to share food again. I'll set another place for you."

p>So... It turns out he seduced me. That night I have a wet dream of John, where I star as the peach. I wake up mid orgasm, pajamas damp. I take a quick cold shower, and return to bed, unable to sleep.

This isn't why I continue to offer him food though. I honestly just wish to enjoy food together with him. 

In fact, my reaction to him eating a peach is so strong that I don't offer him any more after that first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this will be the last postcard from Smutsville (New favourite word apparently) for a while. There's a plot around here somewhere, probably among the discarded clothes.
> 
> P.s. : female bodied people can have wet dreams, it's not as obvious and messy as for male bodied people, but it happens.


	17. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we are now, requires a little explanation.

When John comes back in from the bathroom, his clothes are back in perfect order, but he still has a glow in his cheeks. He hands me my phone back.

"Feeling yourself again?"

"For now."

"Good, go downstairs and make me some tea, I need to think."

I follow him down slowly.

"In light of recent events, there's something the succubus said that could be important. She said we could fuck you before we kill you."

"So she didn't believe sex would kill me, but also that it was an option. So we could just try it?"

"What if she was wrong?" I say. 

"Then we stop immediately."

"John, the pull out method is never good prophylaxis. Lets chalk that one up as a back up plan. If we have sex, I want it to be because we both want it, and not have it be a life and death situation for either of us, or you being weirdly under my spell."

"This may be the first time in the history of the Earth that a sucubbus has turned down sex." John says.

"Depends on how you define sex. Thing is, I steal souls as soon as my partner fully gives themselves over to an act of lust with me. Orgasm doesn't need to be involved, nor does my vagina. Back in the day I once stole a soul and ran away, leaving the guy's cock bobbing in the breeze. His breath was terrible. The only reason sucubbi steal souls with vaginal sex is because they like doing it. Also because you get more energy that way."

"I didn't know. Was I at risk with the phone... thing?"

"No, I need some essence of you. Sweat, saliva, semen. Even breath. Some are better conduits. Semen is the best. No touch, no risk, at least, that's how it is with humans."

"Souls are.. tricky? Complicated at least. I've even known people who have been seduced get into heaven anyway. Time, honest repentance, some divine blessing and enough good works can heal a sucubbus mark. I also know some sucubbi steal the same soul multiple times."

"Jesus."

"This is my point. We don't know what they did to you, or how they did it. So we don't know what might hurt you, or how to heal you either."

"And until then, you are vulnerable. We don't know what I could do to you. And I won't risk killing you."

"We have to figure out where we are, injury wise. I am currently both physically and supernaturally incapacitated. What we need to know is where you're as. Are you stuck on this plane because of something they did to you, or because you don't have the power to discorporate your body properly?"

He fiddles around pouring the tea.

"Be honest, the reason you didn't shoot the succubus immediately was because it took you that long to summon up one of your divine bullets."

"Yes. I'm scared they actually took part of my power, and I don't know whether I can get it back. Or how to do so. I hate being vulnerable."

"I'm guessing the dagger is something to do with your troubles."

"It definitely is. They.. did something with it, to destroy my divine barrier. It was... very difficult to take them all out, after that." I get the feeling that an epic and prolonged fight is contained within the '... very difficult'.

We go get the dagger. It lies on the table between us, looking menacing. We both sip tea.

"So.. where do we start?"


	18. Research and recidivism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under construction. Sorry, most of my writing and editing is done via smart phone at the moment, so it sort of gets constructed on the fly.

Weighing up risk versus reward of various strategies.

"How willing are you to let me go steal a few souls?"

"... I'm still an angel."

"And I'm still a demon. There aren't many options that result in both of our continued existence."

"I know. But see if we can avoid that for now. Put it under plan B, along with having sex."

"Ok. Perhaps our best bet is to figure out what this dagger does, exactly." 

"I can do that, but I would need to get my barrier back properly first. Right now, it could tear me to pieces just by touching it."

"So, how do you do that?" 

"leave the mortal plane."

"that.. isn't an option under your own powet." 

"No..."

"So there is one last option. We get there under my power."

"What?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under construction

We step outside, into the sunshine. It seems such a disconnect between the weather, and our grim purpose. We are both leaving the mortal plane, without any assurance that we shall be able to return to it. Or even to return to one another.

I go gather the herbs from their storage and my garden.

"I thought you said you weren't a witch."

"I'm not. I'm an undertaker. With these I Send my friends cleanly and safely. It's all I can do for them. I never know if they've been tainted by association with me. So I make the correct burnt offerings and hope for the best."

I am lucky that John helped my garden grow well this Summer, between my jars and my remnant garden, we are well stocked to cross. Sage and sweet grass, belladonna, garlic, lavender. I have everything we need.

I quickly gather them. We walk outside. Nearby is a glade surrounded by oaks. It is the perfect location to travel the planes.

I light a fire.

I hand John a pair of bouquets. Give us both woven crowns. We both speak the words, walk the weaving pattern. Then into the fire go all our finery, and we both close our eyes to step through the thick white smoke it creates.

I open my eyes to a soft landscape, puffy clouds, and sweet cool sunlight. The etheric plane. It been a long time since I've seen it. My body grieves for the loss of the mortal plane.

This is like a staging area, an interface. The realm through which babies are born, people die, and angels lurk while looking over the world. There are many exits to this place. Many entrances, fortunately for us. 

I immediately begin to prepare our exit into Underworld. I don't feel comfortable here.

I freeze when I see John. I barely recognise him. For a start, he has no signs of age or injury or modernity. Clad in shielding prisms of crystal and gossamer white robes. Pure and ethereal and without weight or breath. So clean faced he may as well be a unbearded babe. His sword a flawless diamond crystal at his side, the hilt argent. Everything about him is cold, and sharp, and clear, like ice. Frozen in perfection.

A breeze of his own divine making swirls his clothing around him.

This is how he once was. How he once manifested, before the murkiness of modern humanity corrupted him, jaded him. Before he was truly clothed in flawed mortal flesh.

His flowing hair is held back from his face by a pearlescent ribbon. There is nothing to interrupt the pure unguarded intensity of his eyes. With effort, Eventually I stand straight, face him properly.

"So this is what you look like John? This plane makes the differences between us obvious." I say, finally, my voice barely recognisable as my own. I continue drawing the correct forms.

I wonder if I look eerie to him as he does to me.

I too appear how I once was. The aggregate look of me is cobbled together, at best. Not my lovely symetrical solid flesh self on the mortal plane. I'm inhuman from the first. My skeleton is made of a jumble of brambles, held together with knots and tangles of long flowing women's hair. My entire head and torso look human, thanks to a stitched-on skin made to resemble the feminine form. The stitches that hold my skin on run up my back like a corset lace. My fingers rip through the skin at the tips, showing protruding rose thorns instead of fingernails, my devils tail too is a corded whip of hair. A pair of lungs fill and squeeze within their cage of leaves to allow me speech.

My eyes are river stones, bark and glassy smooth, almost wet looking, but they only look human in the dimmest of lights.

If you purely objectify me sexually, then I look completely human, with eyes and nose and flowing hair, breasts and hips and a female slit under unruly pubic hair. But look closer and it's obvious I am a monstrous horror who steals your soul. Glamour and intoxication used to be a larger part of my arsenal of charms to ensnare men.

"Is this what all sucubbi looked like once?" He sounds curious. Strangely, I forget how young he is sometimes, this form was before his time.

"Some sort of human skin clothed monster, yes. All based on different animals and such. The only similarity we had was thorns or claws, so that we could hold on to our victims while we stole their souls. It wasn't always a quick and painless process, as it is now." 

"I didn't expect you'd be so green and living." He says. 

It has been a long time since I was this... creature. It feels as unnatural as it looks.

"I guess this is why I like the woods so much." I say, creakily.

I continue. "This monstrous body is why sucubbi learned to properly clothe ourselves in mortal forms."

"Same with angels. Have you ever seen a Herald?" He asks.

"Yes. Almost as frightening as you are now." I say. "The forms are complete." I assure him and stand up straight, now we just need to wait for another soul to breach between purgatory back to here, let the closing hole pull us back with it, unfortunately for us, a less common occurrence.

"I'm frightening to you?" He blinks. 

"You are so perfect, it's like looking directly at the Sun. I assume it's in order to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies."

"Oh. I didnt think of that. Perfection as a form of intimidation. You're probably right."

"You are as perfect as an obsidian blade, exact down to the atom. It marks you as God's creation." I say. "Much as my thorough imperfections mark me as a spawn of hell." I hope my face can carry the level of sardonic expression I'm requesting of it. "I know why I prefer my remade mortal form. But why did you retain yours a second longer than you required it to stalk me?"

"It only seemed right to wear mortal form on the mortal plane. " he says, uncertainly.

"It's only right to wear mud in a pig pen too. Admit it. You like your mortal body, flaws and all."

"You're right. I do. It brings me ... closer ..."

"To my level." I finish for him.

"To humanity..." He says. 

But I feel it now, a soul leaving purgatory. I reach out with all I've got left, take hold of John, and the breach, and pull. 

It's a rather mind eating sensation to change planes like this.

Well, it had to happen. We are in Hell, or at least in its little cousin, Purgatory. This is not the heat blasted dry landscape of hell, waterless, and with the wind like an oven. It's cold, greyed dimness, twisted dead trees, fog and marsh green light from no discernible direction. 

The bayou backwater of the river Styx. 

Decaying. Still. Noisome. 

Silent, or whispering, yammering, filling your ears with eerie sounds of distant human suffering

For us, treacherous waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I came up with my description of the demon from my own imagination, let me know if I'm ripping something off, and have merely forgotten my source. Cheers.


End file.
